Visions Never Last
by TheSalamanderEyes
Summary: Set just before Newt's departure from New York in the first film, this short story follows Dougal the Demiguise as he considers the possible outcomes of a medical crisis - and what it all means for Newt, Tina, Queenie, and himself.


The suitcase may have been simply magical, but day-to-day existence just...wasn't. For Dougal, Newt Scamander's Demiguise, there simply weren't enough distractions around to keep the mind occupied. Dougal would start each day in the environment Master Newt set up for him within the case: a rough approximation of a Russian, temperate forest, complete with convincing evergreens. It was pleasant enough, but "pleasant" really wasn't what Dougal was after.

A Demiguise like Dougal was a creature with a vivid imagination, capable of conjuring up multiple guesses about the most likely outcome of any given event. The problem was that evergreens, of all the things on Earth, never change. He needed more to fulfill him and would often tour the rest of the suitcase, peeking in at his roommates. However, at some point, guessing whether or not Pickett would stick the landing from his perch or tumble over spectacularly was no longer that intriguing, either.

Mere days ago, Dougal had taken a brief holiday with one of Master Newt's Occamies. It had been a great change of pace, and he already longed to be back in that spacious department store, instead of locked up in a stuffy case.

On one of Newt's final days in New York, Dougal was among the tall evergreens in search of _something_ to focus on. Quite suddenly, a funny feeling came over him. There was a palpable sense that great activity was waiting just outside the case. For the first time since the department store, excitement bubbled up in him.

Dougal quickly hopped down through the trees and began bounding toward the suitcase exit. An annoyed Erumpent sniffed at Dougal as he left a trail of evergreen needles in his wake. Dougal paid no notice, focused as he was on his destination. Though he knew he wouldn't be able to leave the locked case, he was certain he could sneak a peek outside for a bit. Hopefully, that would bring some relief to this nagging sense of...foreboding?

Arriving in Newt's workshop, the Demiguise pushed around a few crates so he could reach the higher food shelves. Dougal scaled the platforms with great excitement, nearly knocking over a glass bottle of Pumpkin Fizz in the process. He stood on his tiptoes to reach a small crack in the ceiling where he could see through a miniscule hole in Newt's case.

A cobbled sidewalk lay below the case. Newt was walking through a crowded New York street. It was early morning, and several sharply dressed workers rushed past in opposite directions. Dougal fixated on a man with a pencil mustache who stomped past the case. Within Dougal's mind, there were numerous scenarios aligning for him alone.

There was a pothole in front of the man. Maybe he would trip.

His suitcase might drop to the ground, an ugly dent tarnishing the tawny surface.

Maybe he'd fall face first with it, chipping his tooth.

Maybe the teeth would survive, but the blond hair piece would slip off, humiliating him.

He'd plop down on the street and sob.

He'd yell an obscenity.

He'd feel guilty and profusely apologize.

Or he'd sigh and fumble around to get his papers in order.

* * *

Maybe he'd dart towards Newt and lunge at him?

Maybe there was a switchblade in his hand.

Actually, there was a slender wand in his hand.

Phoenix core?

Unicorn?

No matter. A bolt of brilliant color might exit the wand's tip.

 _Accio!_ Dougal felt queasy as the suitcase skidded across the ground.

 _Lumos!_ An overwhelming light blinded Dougal.

 _Avada Kedavra!_ Terrified, Dougal saw nothing more.

Wait.

Actually, there might be no wand. He might just want to give Newt a hug.

Maybe he and Newt would bond over animals.

Maybe he'd offend Newt by wanting Occamy meat.

* * *

Could he possibly see the woman in front of him and stop in his tracks, dumbstruck?

That woman could be his long lost sister.

Or maybe his accountant.

No, no. Dougal knew that woman.

* * *

Just like that, Dougal was freed from the realities of the businessman a few feet away. Instead, he turned his attention to the woman in a slick, black coat a few paces in front of Newt. It was Tina Goldstein, walking with newfound confidence. Next to her in a sharp salmon-colored gown, Queenie Goldstein turned back to Newt. "Don't fall behind, Mr. Scamander!" she yelled to him, a vibrant grin on her face. "Newly Reinstated Auror Ms. Porpentina Goldstein demands you keep up!" she giggled with glee and nudged Tina in the arm. Tina looked at Queenie with a bashful smile and then giggled a bit herself.

If Dougal strained his eyes a bit, he could see Master Newt above him, clearing his throat. Newt was obviously a bit more anxious than usual. He kept looking at Tina up ahead, and biting his lower lip. Newt had a lot of potential futures, and almost all of them revolved around _her_.

He could pick up his pace and walk at Tina's side.

He could smile warmly and congratulate her.

He could laud her considerable skills as an Auror.

...Or he could slink back even further and avoid talking to her at all costs.

Dougal ran through the possibilities in his head - even the grand ones, like asking Tina to go to Europe with him or proposing to her on the spot - and found that most featured a Newt who would likely keep quiet and let his emotions continue festering inside of him. That was unfortunate. There were of course other ways Newt might end up by Tina's side.

Unfamiliar and confusing street signs could lead him there.

Tina smiling in his direction could lead him there.

A chaotic plane crash in the street could lead him there _very quickly_.

And then…

Dougal's stomach twisted. It was that feeling of foreboding he had felt a top the evergreen. It was taking hold. Newt would end up by Tina's side, but they wouldn't be talking about feelings. A medical emergency would get him there. And it was all going to be Master Newt's fault.

* * *

The vision had come too late for Dougal to warn anyone. In real time, a bald, middle-aged man stumbled just outside the glass doors of the Chrysler Building, feet away from Tina. He fell to the ground and began wheezing, a sound not unlike the wounded beasts Dougal had seen Newt care for in his workshop. The wheezing became an echo as the possibilities multiplied. It filled every corner of the Demiguise's consciousness, with slightly different variations taking hold in each vision. Dougal found it difficult to watch the man shaking and sputtering and coughing and twisting and shouting...He was shouting all sort of things within the visions, once for the ambulance, once for his wife, and three times simply for help. Sometimes, it was a high pitched voice and sometimes it was a gravelly tone. The futures just kept compounding, and Dougal watched them all while keeping an eye on the scene as it unfolded.

A crowd of New York citizens began to swell with Tina and Queenie near the front of the pack. A visibly shaken Newt found a place to stand next to Tina. The man had yelled for someone named "Daisy" and continued his deep breathing, clutching his chest. Time seemed to stop for the Demiguise as one particular vision took hold.

* * *

Dougal could see the man on the sidewalk, and Tina next to Newt. Newt moved his head closer to her in order to whisper. This was unnatural for him, but he was too nervous about the man to notice his typical anxieties.

A distant onlooker yelled for an ambulance. A slender man in a gray suit and fedora ran into the Chrysler Building, probably to find a phone. Newt watched this man leave and then murmured his diagnosis to Tina. "Spattergroit," he said simply.

Tina whispered to Newt, keeping her eyes on the man. "Auror training taught me to identify that much. But a no-maj infected by _spattergroit?_ How does that add up?" She looked at him imploringly.

Newt chose his next words carefully, avoiding eye contact with her. "Perhaps that's what happens when one... _inadvertently_...introduces a few creatures to a foreign environment...not accustomed to those germs."

There was a sigh from Tina, and Newt bristled. "Mr. Scamander…"

Queenie jumped in hurriedly. "I've heard the MACUSA health folks talk about this bout. Nasty business." She lowered her voice further. "Can a no-maj even survive a go-around?"

Simultaneously, Tina responded with a weary "no," and Newt offered a bashful "maybe."

Perplexed, Tina turned to Newt for an explanation.

Newt looked down at the case, and Dougal wondered if he could see the wandering eye in the crack. "There might be a little, experimental brew. It's a concoction of Pepperup Potion and…well, the details don't matter at the moment." He unlatched one clamp on the case and then stopped, looking at Tina and this time meeting her eyes. "There will be some gnarly side effects, though. It won't look pretty for him...or for us. We're talking another breach of the International Statute of Secrecy here."

Tina grimaced. "Just do it."

Newt sighed and opened the case. There were no alleyways nearby so he had to place it on the ground as Tina and Queenie crowded around him, trying to hide the bizarre entrance from view. It didn't work.

"Witches among us!" a woman in lavender yelled from the open door of the Chrysler Building. She pointed in the direction of the case, where Newt's head was sticking out suspiciously. The trio all held their hands up in surrender. Two children screamed and ran while a few angry citizens swarmed, fists raised.

"Stop hurting that man! He never did a thing to you, scum!" yelled a policeman. He had some metal bracelets ready for them…

* * *

Dougal could see the man on the sidewalk, and Tina next to Newt. A distant onlooker yelled for an ambulance. A slender man in a gray suit and fedora ran into the Chrysler Building, probably to find a phone. Newt was telling Tina about a magical antidote he had somewhere in the case.

"There will be some gnarly side effects, though," he said."It won't look pretty for him or for us. We're talking another breach of the International Statute of Secrecy here."

Tina grimaced. "Just do it."

Newt nodded and unclamped the case. Since there was no alleyway around, he moved to put the suitcase on the ground, hoping that the cover of his friends would allow him to slip into it unnoticed. As he swung the case open, Dougal held out a vial full of a frothy, gold liquid he suspected to be the antidote. Newt shook his head.

Dougal pushed through the clutter of his noisy mind to the next vision. There, he held out a vial full of a translucent liquid he suspected to be the antidote. Newt shook his head.

Back through the clutter. Dougal held out a hot pink gel he suspected to be the antidote. Newt shook his head.

The journey to the next vision was even more draining. Dougal held out a vial full of a brown, bubbly liquid he suspected to be the antidote. Newt gave a small smile and mumbled his gratitude as he grabbed the container quickly. Dougal's hand receded, and the case clamped shut.

From his upside down view of the sidewalk, Dougal could see Newt rush forward, with Tina trailing just behind. She held up her Auror badge, covering the moving picture with her thumb as she claimed to be the police. Even though female police officers were as rare as Ashwinders at that time, the effect seemed to work, and members of the crowd backed away.

Newt kneeled down to the man, applying the brown gel just above his lip. "This might sting a bit," he said sympathetically. The man's wheezing was interrupted with a shriek as the hot gel entered his nose. He began to turn red, and there were gasps and concerned murmurs from the crowd. "This is a _completely_ natural, expected reaction!" Newt stood up and faced the crowd, trying to gather as much confidence and volume as possible. "Our patient will be up and walking within minutes!"

Dougal didn't know what Newt expected. An angry crowd started heckling him as the man's face became an even more intense shade of red. That police officer rounded the corner, first running towards Tina as he had already heard a woman was pretending to be an officer of the law. A second officer pushed towards the patient and frantically wiped the gel off with a handkerchief. The wheezing still hadn't stopped, and Newt knew his antidote hadn't been given enough time to work. Metal bracelets cuffed his hands. A few Second Salemers grabbed his case, taking Dougal on a ride as they vowed to burn the instrument of witchcraft…

* * *

And there was the intriguing vision.

There was the man, the discussion, and the brown liquid applied. There was the arrest, and then...a moment where the Second Salemers were too distracted by Queenie's mind tricks to grab the case immediately. It was still unlocked. Dougal could turn invisible, slip out, and leave all of _this_ behind.

Dougal didn't know what was around the next corner. The surprise of it all was enthralling. He wanted it. He sauntered past the wheezing man and through an opening in the mob. It was a beautiful day out if you forgot all the yelling and heavy breathing. The architecture of humans just ahead was marvelous...the way the skyscraper's clean window let you look in at all the employees going about their business in cubicles, each living their own unique story with fascinating futures. Dougal scanned one floor and then up...up...up as far as the eye could see. There were dozens of cases to analyze. They were so special, so precious, so involved in their own little realities where they were

~~~~~writing feverishly to meet the deadline or typing or sighing or staring at the clock or staring at the watch or worried their boss would catch them or wanting to be noticed by the boss or daydreaming or about to tip over on their chair or considering what to eat or looking down at the mob or over it all and ready to join the mob or decorating their cubicle with a special family photo or tearfully taking down a special family photo or viciously ripping up a family photo or about to laugh gleefully or about to break down or about to screamscreamscreamscreamscreamscreamSCREAM~~~~~

Now Dougal was the one wheezing. His mind was in a spiral, following the snagged lines of New York visions he didn't want. Spending a few days in a nearly deserted department store was one thing. But if he left the suitcase now, he would be running from a peaceful jungle full of boring beasts to a concrete one, full of very complicated humans. He didn't want that buzz of activity around him at all times. He wanted his own little tribe of humans, even if they were a bit dense at times. And it was time to get them back to their tedious selves.

* * *

Dougal had precious little time now. Back in the present reality, he was still on the top shelf of Newt's workshop. It was time to escape his mind for a moment and start over. Dougal leaned against the smooth, wood wall, the cool touch against his fur calming him. Slowly, he sifted through the multitudes of his mind, forgetting the businessmen and businesswoman he had inspected moments earlier. The cacophony of unique voices quieted down, and the visions disappeared. Dougal kept his eyes shut as he eased himself to a lower heart rate and slowly...slowly found himself in a blank mind.

A deep breath.

Another.

There was a moment of calm, and then a bitter shiver down Dougal's spine as he felt the onslaught of pent up visions funneling their way to his mind.

Now, it was time to hone in on Master Newt.

The dam broke, and the visions poured in.

* * *

Dougal could see the man on the sidewalk, and Tina next to Newt.

Dougal could see the man on the sidewalk, and Tina next to Newt.

 _Dougal could see the man on the sidewalk, and Tina next to Newt._

Dougal could see all of this. So many variations of the same sixty seconds. But he couldn't fathom a way for his Master to help the man. Not alone anyway. The Demiguise was mentally exhausted, and now it was time to be physically spent. He had to act fast.

The timeline was clear to Dougal. Newt was currently processing the medical situation, just discovering it about a millisecond ago. In a second or two, he'd consider moving closer to Tina, and think about what he was going to say to her. Their conversation wouldn't last long, regardless of the reality that ended up unfolding. It was time to create a distraction. The future told him Newt would understand the message he had planned.

Dougal jumped down to the ground floor of the workspace, navigating his way to a cabinet full of potions. Careful to avoid the experimental potion Newt would need later, Dougal grabbed some expendable brews and set them on the floor next to him. Lying on the ground, he threw the first glass bottle into the air, aiming for the peep hole. A red potion connected with its target, and Dougal rolled towards the wall in order to avoid the falling glass shards and ooze. Dougal did this a few more times, hoping against hope that some of the liquid would ooze on the outside of the case.

It was clear where to go next. Dougal bolted outside to the Grand Canyon habitat left vacant by Frank the Thunderbird. He ran to the corner of the area, thumbing at the edges in order to get some sort of grip on the magical tarp. With great force, Dougal sent it crashing to the ground. He dragged the cover back towards Newt's workshop, having to squeeze it through the door.

Another signal was needed now. Thumbing through the potion options left available, Dougal chose two vials to throw at once: one white, the other burgundy. A spectacular display of royal blue smoke exploded along the ceiling, and Dougal waited for a response below, pulling the rest of the tarp into the workshop in the meantime. Fitting it all into the cramped room was proving to be quite the challenge, and possessions were being knocked to the floor left and right as the expansive cover was dragged to the corner. The crack at the top of the case expanded a smidge more as Newt opened the suitcase slightly. Dougal fed the tarp up through it, and eventually, Newt took hold and started feeding it out of the case.

Newt's voice boomed overhead as he leaned his head close to the case. "Yes?"

An inaudible Dougal stood below and wrapped his arms around himself in a big hug. There was some murmuring from Newt. Then, Dougal could hear Queenie's breathing as she leaned over the case. "Cover ourselves. Got it, Sweetie!"

Outside the case, the trio huddled around one another, and Queenie threw the tarp over them like an invisibility cloak. It was more than big enough for all of them, but it drew some attention from no-maj onlookers immediately. That did not matter for long; within moments, Dougal's hand appeared outside of the open suitcase at their feet, holding another find from the workshop: a cluster of dungbombs. Tina wretched in response, but Newt wasted no time questioning Dougal's logic. He grabbed the dungbombs and tossed them out through an opening in the tarp. When the bombs hit the ground, the three of them pushed closer together. In a desperate effort, Tina held the cover as tight to her back as possible to prevent the stench from wafting in.

Following the explosion, there were some confused yells. A majority of people ran immediately, while others wretched for a time before fleeing. When Queenie removed the tarp tentatively a minute later, the smell was distinct but at least tolerable. The sidewalk had cleared, if only for a few moments. Newt could move forward, seizing the antidote Dougal presented, and heal the man.

The trio stayed to make sure the antidote had kicked in properly. By the time the man's wheezing had stopped and the ambulance had arrived, Newt, Tina, and Queenie were long gone, heading to MACUSA through a different district. At the scene of the incident, police could only find broken glass, a Grand Canyon tarp, and bits of dung. With no good explanations, the stench was said to be an indecent, childhood prank, and the man's astonishing recovery was chalked up to a medical miracle.

Twelve blocks away in the cover of The Blind Pig's alley, Newt and Tina disappeared into the workshop, leaving Queenie to carry the case back to the Goldstein home. Inside, Newt patted Dougal on the head in thanks and then started picking up. His abode was in the worst condition he had ever seen, littered with glass shards, oozing potions, scattered papers, and an assortment of dropped trinkets. Tina grabbed a towel and began to scrub the floor, asking Newt about his potions and his work. As they sorted the shelves and got everything back in order, Tina learned a lot more about Newt and this profession he held so dear. In turn, Newt heard all about Tina's job and felt like he learned quite a bit about her, too. The quality time was good for both of them.

As the two continued to work, Newt searched for a way to explain why his workshop had ended up in such a sorry state. None of his beasts were _that_ reckless. The mess really shouldn't have been so extensive after a few thrown potions and a tarp removal. It really did not add up, but he figured it didn't matter. As he looked over at Tina, carefully writing down potion labels with an ink quill on the desk, he couldn't help but be grateful for this fluke.

Just beside the door, an invisible Dougal happily watched the two bond. Everything had gone just as he envisioned it...or, at least, in the best possible way he could envision it.


End file.
